Hanami
by hikachu
Summary: Subaru admires the flowers in bloom and gets lost between past and present and the natural distance separating human beings. Implied canon pairings and some Subaru/Kamui.


**HANAMI**

The world did not end, and the following year finds Subaru staring at flowers being reborn and little birds reawakening. The world did not end; spring is here again to wash away snow and wind and death. But, Subaru ponders distractedly, it seems, now, more like a sign of continuity than one of change: the weather is nice and it's the sunlight, its warmth, that makes people smile as they search for mothers and fathers and lovers and children too (because no one was spared) among the broken pieces of what used to be Tokyo.

This is the show of mankind stubbornly getting up after a nasty fall—there's no true rebirth; no difference between this and the blackened trees that spring coats every year with sweet, sweet flowers.

And as colors explode everywhere, the world that Subaru's eyes see is made of black and white, like a puzzle that has already been solved; the simple statement of a past which cannot change and a future that holds nothing for him. There's no more to life than facts unfolding, unfolded and waiting to happen.

There's no miracle behind the revival called spring, for nothing was actually dead in the first place.

'Love' is a pretty word, but it can't bring the dead back to life. Subaru knows this better than many.

*

The day before the final battle, the Dragons of Earth's Kamui had told him again: "You seem to care about Kamui quite a lot, don't you?"

"I do."

"But it isn't enough, is it? You can't raise your kekkai anymore. Not even for his sake."

"You," Subaru answered quietly after a long pause, gloved fingers touching his right cheek. "You know that already."

For some reason, when the other did not respond, Subaru felt compelled to add: "But he has you."

Fuuma turned his head to look at him, and his smirk didn't look as irritating as it usually did.

"Humans only see what they want to see," he said, eyes glued once more on the fallen Babylon that their Tokyo had become.

*

Even now that there are flowers blooming magnificently all over Japan, Subaru thinks that the ones in Kanazawa are the most beautiful: they don't know the subtle illusion of death and rebirth which comes with fall and winter and spring.

In this garden, camellias and cherry blossoms fall like rain all year long; never rotting, never changing, as if unable to discard their true essence, unable to lie.

Sometimes, Subaru can even believe that Seishirou's heart used to be just as simple; that whatever wounds he received, whatever dream was left unfulfilled, was all due to his own selfish blindness.

*

—and then the wind blew stronger, throwing dust at his face regardless of the tattered cape he was wearing: Subaru was fairly sure it wasn't Kamui's expression that made his eyes sting.

"Su… baru…? Why?"

Explanations are futile: they don't mend wounds or change the past or current feelings, nor would they have made Subaru regret his choice. Looking intently at his gemini's face, Fuuma knew this too. He offered Kamui no _why_, no reason to what was happening, but something better: a chance to understand.

"What do you think?" He asked, and Kamui's expression hardened: people will often choose the path that promises to be less complicated, to hurt them as little as possible. So, when Fuuma continued: "That's the answer," Kamui merely bared gritted teeth, getting ready to attack again.

Subaru watched silently. Once, he had explained to a crying boy that 'truth' is but a legend to reassure uncertain hearts. There's no such thing as 'everybody', he had said, smiling.

But then Kamui fell, pinned against broken concrete by Fuuma's Shinken, and he looked so much like a giant butterfly – fragile, just about to die – that Subaru remembered how, beyond the thick veil of feelings and wishes, the fact that something has happened will forever remain, no matter how you look at it.

It hurt almost as much as the first time he'd realized that.

*

There is something ridiculous and frightening about the way people look when you're observing them from the very top of a skyscraper, and if you are enough of a realist or a pessimist, you could end up wondering about your own relevance.

Subaru's thoughts are too scattered for such a thing, though. His head is full of images and voices and screams he's never let out, and distinguishing recollections from nightmares from reality from broken hopes is very hard: when he tries to focalize on a single face or a warm voice humming a wordless tune, his mind goes blank, as if it had been empty all along.

Maybe he really has lost his humanity. Nowadays, he's no more than the living embodiment of someone else's wish, after all.


End file.
